- Doomsday - Volume One: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 107: Born on a Monday

[Surface]

"DRIVE YOU STUPID IDIOT!" [Y/N] shouted from out his window, wound all the way down, throwing grotesque gestures towards all the people in front of him. He slammed the steering wheel, letting out the car's blaring horn. It wouldn't be able to take much more abuse. "FUCK OFF!" Someone else screamed back at him, and more cars began honking behind him. Visible indentations were being left in the wheel's outer rim, perfectly matching [Y/N]'s large palms. "Jesse, I'm going to go crazy." He said, monotone and hollow. Jesse and Rose couldn't believe it. Congested traffic was really his one true weakness. It was breaking him mentally...

"MOVE OR I'M GOING TO MOVE YOU MYSELF!" [Y/N] continued, and he kept throwing obscene comments back and forth with every person who fought him. McCree held his head in shame, unable to cope with the situation, Rose was much the same. A man who had never really been all that close to society and its system being thrust into such an infuriating situation. He was truly powerless to do anything. How he wished that he was Clark right now, perhaps fighting some intense battle. No, he got to sit in a line that hadn't moved an inch in over five minutes.

Little did they know that beneath their very feet, what [Y/N] imagined wasn't all that far off. A battle of epic proportions was just about to begin...

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[Sewers]

"Listen, I don't know about all of you, but I only know one God. And I definitely wouldn't consider him to be any master of evil." Superman shouted loudly, folding his arms across his broad chest. He slowly floated down towards the hoard of cultists, each watching him with baited breath. "Now, I'll give you all one chance, give up now. Final offer." Clark said, graciously. It was hard not to smell the death all around him, or perhaps it was just the gruesome amount of bloody pits surrounding them. People had died here, most likely murdered, and it wasn't going to be hard to find the culprits. These were normal people, perhaps on some drug considering their slow heart rate, but nonetheless they weren't mutates. This wasn't a Chemo situation, this was a human situation, which could honestly be worse at times.

A human situation meant he had to handle it far more delicately then he otherwise would off...

"I'm afraid there is no point in trying to persuade my loyal flock..." The man atop the stage slowly remarked, placing both his palms atop the tip of his crooked cane. "They are servants to a far higher power than you, or anyone else on this accursed realm, and they are committed to his service." And then he smiled a cruel smile, old and gnarled. "You dare intrude upon my mass, and then attempt to send my people astray?"

"Oh no, no, no..." He repeated to himself, almost letting a low chuckle slip through. The old man held his head down, concealing his true expression behind shadows. "I, Deacon Joseph Blackfire, of the Eternal Church, do hereby order you all to give up your mortal forms for the sake of our lord. I won't allow all the years of searching for that petulant girl to have been for naught, all because of some lowly alien mongrel!"

"GO FORTH MY CONGREGATION! UNVEIL THE GIFTS THAT HIS BENEVOLENCE BESTOWED UPON YOU ALL!" He commanded, his voice growing scratchy and shrill. Clark didn't know what exactly that all meant, what were these gifts that he described? Simultaneously, each cultist pulled out a sharp blade from somewhere within their scarlet robes, some more lanky, others thick and blunt. As if synchronised together, the large group drove each knife into themselves, directly where the heart would have been located. A collective pained groan escaped them all, as some fell to their knees immediately, others struggled, coughing up blood.

"What is this?!" Clark demanded, unable to act fast enough to stop them. It was all so sudden, was he to expect such a sudden act of mass-suicide? This Deacon Blackfire must have deceived them into some higher purpose, that this was moral and just in some demented way. He steeled himself, realising that this all was far more serious then he initially understood. In a flash, he darted over towards the closest figure to him, a young woman who had impaled herself with not even a traditional blade, but an old rusty pair of scissors.